


Projects I Ain't Ever Gonna Finish

by R_Armchair



Category: Captain Marvel (2019), Final Fantasy XIII Series, Shazam! (2019), Supernatural, The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, F/M, Fluff, In Medias Res, M/M, Marriage Proposal, No Plot/Plotless, Questionable Coupling, Sexual Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:27:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24988297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/R_Armchair/pseuds/R_Armchair
Summary: Realistically, I need to acknowledge that these are less ‘works in progress’ than they are ‘works I’ve abandoned for all eternity.’They are completely plotless and obviously incomplete in some form or another.But some of them are readable.I thought I might as well dump them here, in case you want a look behind the curtain.  I’ll leave notes including what was supposed to happen.
Relationships: Billy Batson/Carol Danvers, Cain/Dean Winchester, Hope Estheim/Lightning, Number Five | The Boy/Vanya Hargreeves, Oerba Yun Fang/Rygdea
Comments: 7
Kudos: 14





	1. TUA: Fiveya

Playtime

The sound of a slightly out of tune violin filled Vanya’s room and escaped into the hallway. She found that focusing completely on the fingering instead of the melody, allowed her training to run much more smoothly. Anytime she compensated by shifting her fingers along the strings, she could feel her powers rush forth. This moment was the sensation she was looking for. She wanted to pinpoint the instant that her abilities engaged.

“Hard to believe someone so tone-deaf could ever become a professional,” Five said, slinking into the room, hands in his pockets.

Vanya set her instrument into its case, but didn’t fasten it. Crossing the room, she approached Five until they were almost nose to nose. He took a step backward, but only one. A nightstand was directly behind him and he’d almost kicked it over. Even though they were now both in thirteen-year-old bodies, she was still shorter than him, if only by an inch.

“Your mission complete? How many thieves did you butcher this time?” Vanya said, still not giving him any space.

“None. Just incapacitated. You know Klaus, he’s sick of our marks coming to haunt him now that he’s sober.”

“Was there something you wanted? Besides insulting me.” She retreated slightly and reached for her violin.

“Why are you in my trousers? Along with that whole look you’ve got going on.” He waved his hand around, gesturing at her from head to toe.

“I’ve never liked skirts, and we’re closest in size.” Lifting her instrument to her shoulder, she resumed playing.

Her current get-up was completely out of line with the original young-Vanya. She’d been a timid child trying desperately to become invisible beneath her clothing and hair. Now she stood tall, her bangs clipped out of the way, and her long hair folded into a messy bun. The sight of her somehow grated on him, so he vanished from the room.

* * *

Night had fallen and Luther was blaring a tasteless record. There were only so many times the family could endure April Wine’s _Harder…Faster_. The music drowned out any other sound on the floor. Five had fled to the sitting room where he was leafing through his tattered copy of Vanya’s book. He spent the last month adding calculations and observations he’d made when transporting seven individuals through time. He’d been so enraptured that he missed someone sitting in the lounge chair opposite him.

“If father catches you with that, we’re all screwed.” Vanya reclined into her seat and stared at the vaulted ceiling.

“He won’t.”

“I just did.”

“I let you.”

“What you _let_ , is your guard down.”

“You’ve never had one to let down.”

“Right, because ‘rapists can climb.’” She propped her head on her arm, looking at him. Then she smiled. “Even as a kid you were a grumpy old man. Nothing has changed about you. Just as cocky as the day you ran out on us.”

“And you are nothing like the Vanya I knew.” He pocketed the book and strode over to her, his shoes clicking on the hardwood.

“Obviously.” She tucked a stray hair back into a bobby-pin. “I forcibly believed I was worthless, and was unnecessarily on mood suppressants. That girl was an illusion. This is the woman you’re going to have to deal with from now on.”

He leaned over her, and braced himself with one hand on an arm of the chair and the other on the backrest. A growl developed in his throat.

“You’re quite fond of this aren’t you? I can’t tell if you’re angry or aroused. The first time you got this close, back in my apartment, I could have sworn you were going to kiss me. Full-on Belle patching up the Beast’s arm, Beauty and the Beast level tension,” she said.

Five vanished.

* * *

Breakfast had been spectacularly uneventful, but it was followed by a rare afternoon of “play.” Why their father referred to free time as play, confused the siblings. Even if they had still been teenagers, everyone except Luther was beyond “playtime.” All but Five and Vanya had left to see a movie. Though no one had mentioned it, Five had only showed disinterest once Vanya had claimed to hate the film after having seen it on cable.

“What did you mean last night?” Five said, rudely appearing seated at the foot of her bed without warning.

“That you’re overly cocky? Take it at face-value,” Vanya said.

She placed her journal on her nightstand and leaned against her head board. Crisscrossing her legs, she gave Five more space on the tiny twin bed. He scooted up until the tips of his loafers were touching her knees. She sighed and sat up straight.

“Are you afraid of me, Five?”

“No. I was married for thirty years.”

“Not to a human.” Before he could voice dissent, she briefly touched her lips to his cheek. “I was referring to my abilities and the apocalypse. Your answer is very telling.”

Wanting to have the upper-hand, he lunged forward and kissed her on the mouth. Flesh, saliva, and teeth were all things he wasn’t prepared for. Kissing a human was far messier than things had been with his wife. By all accounts, this was technically his first kiss. And he was terrible at it.

“You taste nothing like plaster,” he said, dazed.

“That’s enough,” she said, before he could kiss her again.

His eyes were glazed over as he kept trying to lean back into her. “Why? You wanted me to kiss you, didn’t you? You’ve always liked me.”

“Not particularly,” she answered bluntly. “I let you, because it looked like you needed it. Too pent up.”

He pulled his eyebrows together and frowned. He vanished into his own room and locked the door, refusing to talk to any of siblings when they returned that evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was when I tried writing a piece about them if they were to be de-aged post season 1. This bitch was gonna be a slow burn. But I wrote myself into a corner.


	2. FFXIII: Yeul, Hope/Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This story stars Yeul in a post LR universe.

New People

A boy nervously entered the classroom, directly behind the teacher. He looked down at his sneakers and gripped both straps of his backpack.

“This is Hope Estheim,” the teacher drawled as she scanned the room looking for an empty lab chair. “He just moved to town, and has previously only been homeschooled.” She glared at a student who openly snickered. “Please don’t make him regret choosing our Academy.”

Then she waved her arms in the direction of Yeul, whose partner had been expelled only last week. The way Hope dashed across the room and flung himself into the seat seemed almost instantaneous. One second he was in the doorway, the next he was seated trying to be invisible.

Yeul was as hesitant as always about meeting new people. So she waited until Ms. Farron had given instructions before she even turned to look at her new lab partner. When she did, he was already half-way across the room gathering supplies.

“So your name is, Hope? Kind of girly,” Yeul said when the boy slunk back onto his stool.

He didn’t bother answering her and methodically began placing test tubes, burners, mortars, and pestles along their table top. She’d been trying to get a rise out of him. He was clearly intent on avoiding any sort of contact with his peers. This time she would try a softer approach, one that she’d been avoiding.

“I’m Yeul,” she said, sticking her hand out, filling the empty space between the burner and his bangs.

She prayed that when he took her hand, _it_ wouldn’t happen. That maybe, for once, she wouldn’t be forced to endure something so intimate. He turned his head and caught her eyes.

“My mother named me Hope,” he said, meeting her palm with his and curling his fingers in a vice grip.

The flash happened.

But not like any of the times before it. Not the hazy glimpse into something else, the fog and confusion, and drifting colors and voices causing a headache.

With Hope…for the first (but not the last) time, the world shifted into something clear.

He was sixteen, sitting on a beach, talking to a boy whose back was the only thing she could see. Hope laughed at something the stranger said.

The imaged blurred and refocused.

Hope was seventeen, driving a car with his father as the passenger. The elder Estheim was disheartened by his son’s wish to attend college out of state.

The image darkened, before shooting stars of color materialized and filled space, alighting every surface they touched. Boxes of cereal, a grocery cart, and scuffed flooring all came into view. Hope was eighteen and staring at a box of sugary cereal, before replacing it and reaching for something labeled ‘heart healthy.’ Ms. Farron rounded the corner of the aisle, followed closely by a tall blonde man pushing a cart.

“Hope! You back for the winter? How was your first semester of college?” She practically shouted as she approached Hope.

“It was fine. Technically it wasn’t my first semester. I did the summer program there, so I’ve been actually living in the dorm for two terms.”

“Hey! I have an idea. Serah’s sister just came home for a bit. We’re preparing a kind of an indoor barbeque since she brought one of her friends with her. She keeps giving Serah crap about how awful her kids must be. Come with us and prove that at least she’s done right by one of you,” the man said, shaking Hope slightly by the shoulders.

They were all crammed in Serah’s coupe, surrounded by groceries. Then they were at the door to their house. Then Hope stepped foot in the house.

The moment stilled, and every sound of footsteps on carpet, car passing by, water heater humming, every little detail faded into nothing. Because the instant he saw her, she became a stimulus only accessible by an unnamed sense. She was color, sound, direction, position, smell, acceleration, taste, touch, Light.

Lightning was holding a brunette woman in a headlock in the middle of the living room. She dropped her friend, and a flash of recognition that shouldn’t have been there danced across her face before disappearing.

Dinner happened, dessert happened, coffee happened.

Then midnight had arrived and Hope realized that his car was still at the grocery store. Lightning offered to drive him home. She grabbed Serah’s keys. Snow stopped her.

“Take the suburban,” he said. When she refused, he added, “I think a storm is coming.”

Everyone looked out the window, but the sky was clear.

“Just take my car.” He uncurled her fingers and placed the keys in her palm. “Trust me, you’ll thank me later,” he whispered for only her to hear.

And she would thank him, eventually, when she wasn’t so embarrassed.

She had all the reason to be sheepish. Because when Hope and Lightning had pulled up to the curb of his house, somehow the inevitable happened. When they described it later, the only words he’d use were ‘I don’t know why, but it had felt like a long-time-coming.’

With the seats folded down and tucked away, in the back of Snow’s car, in front of his father’s house, after only hours since meeting, they passionately, lovingly, hopefully, quietly, tenderly, roughly, excitedly, and most importantly unexpectedly, conceived the first of their four children.

Neither of them knew that was the time it had happened, as they’d spent all of Hope’s winter break in a similar manner. Not all in Snow’s suburban, of course. There had been bedrooms, living rooms, hotel rooms, and one public restroom at the local mall.

The image phased out and flowers covered what was an indoor space. Four adults dressed in black, sat in a room devoid of any other people. They stared at a coffin, and one of the two women began to sob again.

“Couldn’t you have waited just a little longer?” One of the two men said, angrily balling his hands into fists.

“You know that’s not possible.” The eldest woman said, a solid five years older than her next sibling. “Not without Mom.”

Because while the doctors had claimed it was a heart attack, everyone knew the real cause. Month’s after his wife’s passing, Hope had died of a broken heart.

Yuel found herself gasping for air, once again in AP Chemistry. Her face felt hot as tears began to spill from her eyes. Hope clapped her on the back unsure of what to do. Ms. Farron ran over, knocking over a tray of powdered dyes in the process.

“What happened?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot goes like this: Whenever she touches one of the key players, she has visions of their future. Certain characters remain ‘blank spots’ until she meets them later on. Ex. She pictures a ‘brunette woman’. That’s Fang, but Fang would’ve actually showed up later. There is a big blank hole (also physically—there was an empty seat in her classroom—)in each of the visions. She adoesn’t see herself in any of the visions even though she feels bonded with these people.  
> The plot keeps rolling along until she *trumpets trill* meets Noel. Then she can finally see that’s she’s a part of everybody’s lives :D  
> So… when I started mapping this thing out, I realized I didn’t have the energy to write the rest. It would need to be reaaaaalllllly long.  
> 


	3. FFXIII: Fang/Rygdea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To make this work, I’d have to add more lead up. This follows [ Wading](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17778536) and [ Anniversary Gift](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19889335). In the interim Vanille moves back in with Fang after her relationship with Aremiah seemingly crashes and burns. Fang feels guilty about wanting to leave.  
> I’m too lazy to make a full story out of this *shrugs*

The M Word

“Something on your mind?”Rygdea asked.

By this point, Fang had talked to pretty much everyone in her friend group.All the advice had been the same.If she wanted to live with Rygdea, then she just needed to speak up.Ask him, and then clarify anything necessary if he were confused.Which he wouldn’t be, but be prepared in the off chance that he might.How did everyone else manage that?

“I’m just going to go finish up an essay in my room, call me if you need anything,” Vanille winked and picked her textbooks up from the dining table.

Rygdea looked between the women, hesitant about whatever was going to take place.“Fang?”

“Uh…” slurred out of her mouth.

“Go on,” Vanille urged.

“So, I, uh, was wondering if…” Fang prayed that she didn’t sound as idiotic out loud as she did in her head.“Do you maybe, want to…” she needed to get the words out. Never before had she been this inarticulate.She needed to just ask him to move in.Or rather, ask if she could move in with him.It would be unrealistic to ask him to exchange his remodeled house for her shitty condo.She brought her lips together, preparing for the letter m.“Marry me?”

“What?” The question was quiet, and if Fang had pictured him confused before, she was not ready for the utter astonishment in his expression.

“Oh fuck.”She did not say _move_.There was no _moving_ - _in_ mentioned.She said marry.“Fuck, double fuck.”

His hand was light on her shoulder, “Are you serious?”

Ducking under his arm, she slipped past him and made a beeline for the door.She didn’t even stop to find shoes.Throwing open the front door, she raced to the sidewalk barefoot.The tiny bits of gravel bit at her soles but she kept slamming them against the pavement.She pumped her arms and ran faster than she remembered doing even when fleeing an enemy.

“I’m such a fuck up!”She screamed as she turned the corner to exit their housing community.

Her neighbors waved from lawns, overly friendly.They did this every time she went for a morning run.How did they overlook the fact that it was dusk, she was wearing a skirt, and had no shoes on?

“Wait for me!” Rygdea called after her.

She cut across the main road; cars honked at her.

“You’re going to get run over.Come back, Fang.”

As she sped toward a stoplight, she could hear the cars honking at him this time.Taking a chance, she bolted through the intersection when a miraculous break in traffic occurred.This would be her opportunity to lose him.

“Don’t you want my answer?” he called from an ever increasing distance.

“Hell no!”

A small orange hatchback pulled against the sidewalk in front of her.Vanille stuck her head out the window and told her to get in the back seat.Fang flung open the door and jumped into the vehicle.

“Why the backseat?” she asked, breathlessly.

“I child-locked it.”Vanille spun the wheel and made a u-turn. 

Unsympathetically, she flipped off the other drivers who questioned her unsafe decision.When they passed Rygdea, she yelled for him to meet them at the house.He stood on the side of the road, clutching his side.Fang slammed herself against the seat before they could make eye contact.

“Let me out,” she said flopping onto her back.

“No.We are going home, and you are sorting out whatever that was back there.And if you even think of running when I open the door, I’m breaking your legs.”

“How do you plan on doing that?”Fang felt the car pull into the driveway.

“I’ll kick your kneecaps in or something.Don’t test me.”Vanille cut the engine, climbed out of the car, and then looked through the window down at Fang.“You ready?”

Fang made a non-committal noise, but sat up anyway.With her arms held in front of her, Vanille opened the door, prepared to shove Fang if she tried to run.She then held out a hand to lift her out of the tiny back seat.

“Please, let’s get inside before he comes back,” Fang said, taking initiative by dragging her sister into the condo.

Once they were seated on the couch, Vanille finally relaxed.“Why did you run?”

“Did you miss the part where he said ‘what? Are you serious?’Because I sure as hell didn’t.”Fang sucked on the corner of her lip.“I mean, yeah, that’s not what I was going to say.And I’m sure one of you guys blabbed to him beforehand that I wanted to live together.I was banking on it; that’s why I consulted all of you before I even tried bringing it up.”

“But is that what you actually _wanted_ to say?”Vanille rubbed her hand up and down Fang’s back.

“Of course that’s what I wanted to say, but goddamn.How embarrassing is it that he hasn’t even once considered asking?Maybe he doesn’t take our relationship seriously.This is probably a sign that everything’s about to blow up in my face.”

“Just because things didn’t work out for me,” Vanille placed her hands in her lap, “doesn’t mean that all relationships are doomed to fail.Look at Snow.His fiancé died, and shit still worked out for them.The point is to try, Fang.”

The doorbell rang, interrupting the silence.

“It’s unlocked, and you have a key, just come in,” Fang said before signaling Vanille to leave.

“It took me a second because I had to get something out of my truck,” Rygdea said, walking over to her.“So, are you going to let me give you an answer, or are you going to run away from me again?Because if you are, let me at least get a drink of water first.”

She stood up, and flicked the base of his hair with her index finger.His hair was now past shoulder length, long enough that he could pull it into a tight ponytail.They had been together over a year, the longest relationship she’d had with anyone.That was probably the reason she was rushing into things.But she also didn’t wish to take back what she asked, because she couldn’t picture ever asking someone else.She sucked in a deep breath.

“Rygdea, you probably know that I want to move in with you.I’ve being trying to find a way to ask you.But… that’s just me doing things in half-measures, the way I always do.Before you met me, I was an all-in type of person.So now, I’m going to be brutally honest.I want more than that.”

“Thank God,” he said, closing his eyes.“Fang, Marry me.”

He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a ring box.With shaking hands, he flipped the lid open.The diamond at its center was surrounded by tiny blue sapphires.They were the same color as the sari she’d spent most of her life in.A small memory sparked at the sight of them.They were also the same hue as his captain’s uniform.They’d been a matched set from the get-go.

“Thought you’d never ask,” she said, slinging her arms around his neck, and laying one on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really love how Fang happens to color coordinate with the Cavalry when they abduct Snow.


	4. Captain Marvel:  Marvel/Shazam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do other people ship this? *shouts into the void* Anyone?
> 
> I finally finished watching Chuck this year. My deep Levi Love developed into this. There was a line about “our kids will be like little super heroes with little capes” that completely turned me to mush.  
> This thing is soooooo corny. Just let it be, I wanted to write something that didn’t take itself seriously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the closest example of what my writing process looks like. I write the scenes I like regardless of chronological order. Then I rearrange them. The final step is to map out what I’m missing plot-wise.
> 
> I usually get writers block during the ‘fill in the blank’ stage.
> 
> Which is why Billy has no character development. I didn’t write him any scenes xD

Expectation’s For Chumps

“I think it would behoove us to check on things in the multiverse,” Doctor Strange said, flipping through an ancient text. “Wong, where’s the tape, this page is ripping.”

Carol, Wong, and Strange were hunkering out in his Bleecker Street place, per usual. Not per usual was the stack of books Wong had brought over from the library. He took his duties seriously, and made repairs even when he was technically on vacation.

“The multi-what?” Carol asked, passing Strange the roll of tape. She flipped through the pages, a Kree device hovering above the text, translating the passages on a holo-screen. Though she didn’t plan on taking up sorcery, she did enjoy learning about her teammate’s interests. Also, sorcery wasn’t that far off from the sciences she’d studied on Hala.

“ _Multi-verse_. Infinite versions of life and the universe taking place in tandem. A different version of ourselves making different choices. If other people’s choices led to us being born at all.”

“Are we allowed to just drop in like that?”

“Don’t see why not. Plus we did throw a wrench into the machine with Thanos.” He paused, gently closing his book. “I saw a near infinite amount of possibilities all centered around one battle. It’s got me thinking.”

“No one likes when you think,” Wong interrupted. He wiped a leather bound cover with a cloth. “It gets us in trouble.”

“I’ve been thinking,” Strange continued, “what do the timelines _unaffected_ by us look like? Where we don’t even exist. And if we study them, what could they inform us about our own futures?”

“Hypothetically, once _you_ check on them, aren’t you now part of them?”

“Or were we already part of them, simply because we’d inevitably check on them?” A smirk formed, twitching the hairs of his beard.

“Too much conjecture for a man who believed only in what he could see and touch,” Wong said.

“Danvers, you look bored,” Strange said. “How about we make a bet.”

“I’m listening.”

“You’re missing something.”

“I’m not.” She took a mental tally of her equipment.

“I’m nosy and I refuse to trust someone without looking at at least ten versions of their future. If I peek in a decade later, I get a good read on someone’s value to me.”

“Kind of a dick move.”

“It’s a solid one. About seven out of ten of those futures will be similar. Wong’s futures are ninety-five percent the same. He’s…predictable.”

“I like what I like,” Wong added.

“So what’s my future, Doc?”

Strange grinned, his teeth menacing. “Seventy percent of them diverge at this conversation.”

She sprang to her feet and raced toward the nearest window. “Are we getting attacked? Do I die?”

He laughed. “You don’t die. But whatever you’re missing, it’s out there. In an alternate reality. I don’t go, so I can’t see past it. The trail stops cold.”

“You don’t know if I come back?”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine. When someone dies, the visions are clear cut about it. And if you return I’m sure I’ll be able to read your future.”

“So this is about you after all,” she said, sauntering back to the table where the books were scattered.

“Those other thirty percent? Not good. I’m looking out for you.” He picked up the least offensive book. There really was no need for Wong to keep a copy of The Collected Works of William Shakespeare in the library. With a dramatic rip, he tore a sheet from the section of sonnets. Wong gasped in horror. “The bet starts now. I’m going to write down that particular thing you are missing. When you bring it back, we’ll compare the item with what I’ve written down. If I’m correct, you give me one of Goose’s offspring. I need a pet, and Flerken sounds useful.”

“Goose doesn’t have any offspring.”

“Then what do you have to lose?”

“And if you guess wrong?”

“I’ll let you pick any magical item in the Sanctum Santorum.” He waved his hand toward the glass cases; armor and weapons shuddered within. “You’ve studied enough magic I’m sure one of these would be happy to go home with you.”

Carol thought on this a moment. She didn’t actually want any magician’s equipment, but she would like to prove him wrong. “You’re on, but _you_ have to send me to the proper universe. I shouldn’t have to hop all over the damn place. And we need a goal. I can’t be expected to find something I didn’t know I was looking for in twenty minutes.”

Wong sighed, wanting the conversation to be over. He was completely done with Strange’s endless stream of ludicrous ideas.

Strange snapped his fingers and a pen appeared between them. Quickly, he scribbled on the printed sheet. Next, he crumpled it up and stuffed the wad into an empty apothecary jar that he snatched from the bookcase behind him. Green light glowed from his hands as he held them over the vessel.

“Done. This jar is sealed for one year. You have that long to find what you need.”

“A year? I meant like a week.”

“You can also come and go as you please. Just text me.” He handed her a hideously outdated flip phone. “I’ll portal you out.”

“At least let me suit up.”

* * *

Expectation was for chumps. Carol Danvers had thought she’d seen it all. Nothing new out there in the land of juiced up Super Villains and Warrior Heroes like herself. In that assumption, she’d been greatly mistaken. Otherwise she wouldn’t have been shocked at her current predicament. Or rather, exact location. She was currently trapped in a teenage boy’s bedroom.

“What was that big, red, swirly thing?” he asked.

“And why the hell are you here?” a man, most likely enhanced, asked. He easily towered over her, and his muscles made him twice as wide. His imposing figure reminded her of Drax, if Drax were handsome in that Greek God sort of way. Chiseled chin, greased back, wavy, black hair, hazel eyes that fell in that shift between brown and green, color feathering from the pupil. He really only resembled Drax in girth. Maybe it was the juvenile spandex costume he was wearing. Her own armor was made of tiny shards of interlocking metal, an alien advanced chainmail. His, well he looked like he’d bought a bargain red jumpsuit, thrown on a white cape, and slapped on a plastic lightning bolt.

“If I knew why, trust me, I’d tell you.” Carol looked upward, Strange’s portal gone.

“If you don’t get out, I swear he’s gonna zap you. Kaboom. Gone. You’ll be toast,” the teenager said. He leaned heavily on his crutch, and then lifted it an inch off the ground. The man locked eyes with him, and they made an unspoken agreement.

“Freddy, she doesn’t look that dangerous. I really doubt a villain would drop straight into our room. What kind of moron would do that? She’s probably harmless.” When he canted his head dismissively, Carol burst into flames.

“Not harmless!” Freddy shouted. “Shazam!”

Thunder reverberated across the walls and a blinding light shot straight through the ceiling toward him. Instinctively, she knocked him away and took majority of the blast. Neither of them had been prepared. She could do a lot of things, but handling lightning wasn’t one of them. That talent was Thor’s alone. The jolt left her shaking.

“Woah.” The remark trailed off into a laugh, elongating the oh. “Did you see that? She’s not all toasty. You, like, siphoned it off of her,” the red-suited man said. No wonder he reminded her of Drax. Something told her this man was an idiot.

When she unshielded her eyes, the men had doubled and the teenager was gone. No, that was incorrect. Freddy was still there, just transformed. He was now the second man, wearing an equally kitschy suit. Only his was blue. And he was not as handsome. Cute, perhaps, she’d give him that. Knowing he was a child did mellow any potential attraction.

“Hold on, are you okay? That would’ve fried most people.” The red-suited man drew closer. Just a second ago they’d considered attacking her. Now his face was overtaken with a look of concern. He clutched at her shoulders to keep her from swaying. His eyes were striking up close. Red-suited _man_. Man? He’d said ‘our room.’

“Shit. You’re a kid too?” She tried to summon a charge in her fist. He’d probably land a punch to the face unharmed. When she raised her arm, only the tiniest of flames licked at her knuckles. Her hand made contact with his face but nothing happened. Freddy really had drained her.

* * *

How fast time flew when you were a good guy. Once she’d recovered, they’d realized they were playing for the same team. Figuratively, at least in terms of righteousness. When it came to romance, Freddy played for a different team. Carol played for any team; and she’d definitely never admit to seventeen-year-old boys that there’d been occasions when she’d played for those teams simultaneously. As for Billy, he’d never said and everyone knew not to prod him about it.

Regardless, those conversations rarely came up. They found themselves too busy. Carol was the first professional that was willing to train them. Mainly because she was the only one who’d seen them transform in person. While Billy had known Superman professionally, he wasn’t about to put his family in danger by exposing himself.

Karate classes at the Dojo in the strip mall could only help so much.

So it went, that once a week, Carol dropped in for a couple of hours and beat their asses into shape. Before long, she found herself trying to wrangle the other magically inclined members of the Vasquez household- save Mary. She lived across the country and held little interest in battle anyway.

* * *

Carol had first met Billy as the last dregs of spring were warming in to summer. The weather had shifted, school had resumed, and now afternoons were just as cold as the evenings. Two seasons had passed, and she was no closer to finding the mystery object Strange promised she was destined to locate.

She’d shoved her hands into the pockets of her flight jacket. In a world where she couldn’t fly around on fire willy-nilly, she’d needed warmer clothing. She’d paced around the training warehouse (sourced by Freddy in his younger years) and waited for Billy to return her text. He kept a fairly open schedule and was happy to train whenever she dropped in.

Instead of a single reply, there had been a stream of messages about cupcakes. Darla had been preparing for a school bake sale, and all of the rejects were overflowing from the kitchen. Carol had been forced to come and eat no less than a dozen before the family let her escape.

While she usually did group sessions on every second Tuesday of the month -- the only day the family’s schedules coordinated-- she offered to include them today since everyone appeared to be free. The older children had given excuses. The Vasquezes had then convinced Darla to stay behind even though she’d eagerly transformed in the dining room.

Somehow, very awkwardly, Carol and Billy had left the house alone. Lately this was becoming the norm.

He walked on the sidewalk beside her. She glanced to her right and looked at the man. Gone were the days of his hideous overcoat disguise. Who did he and Freddy think they were fooling? Today he was wearing jeans which easily slipped over his bottom half and a puffer jacket on his top. The bulk of the jacket masked the cape tucked in the back. He looked like any other guy fighting the chilly weather of early winter.

Objectively, and Carol made sure that it was a completely objective thought, he was handsome. She wondered if other people thought so too. The women of Philly loved him in costume, but that had more to do with his superhero appeal. When he was hamming it up, she could practically taste the testosterone he radiated. People loved a man in uniform.

However, dressed in casual wear, walking beside her on the traffic side of the pavement, he still seemed above average. Was it his natural inclination to hook her waist and press her to his chest when a bicyclist approached from behind? Would he have pulled her out of the way if he were his younger self? They’d spent half a year together, but she was never sure where Billy began and his powers ended. He wasn’t like most heroes from her universe. His abilities came from magic and therefore weren’t constrained by the physical. There was a strong possibility that his mannerisms were integrated into his disguise. A bratty youth would never be mistaken for a charming adult.

After shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she hip checked him over the curb. She didn’t need him to be chivalrous; she’d heard the bike and would’ve dodged.

“What was that for?” he asked, brushing the dirt from his knees.

“Felt like it,” she answered coolly. “Training is never over. You need to be prepared at a moment’s notice.”

“I’m not going to punch you in public,” he whispered through his teeth.

“I didn’t use my hands,” she said with a shrug. “I’ve taught you multiple attacks and your impulse is _still_ to use your fist.” She made a tsking noise and strutted further down the sidewalk.

When she reached the intersection, she realized he hadn’t followed her. There he was, half a block behind her, talking to a woman. The redness in his cheeks was more than the biting wind had caused earlier. His blush was so far gone, that Carol could see it from a distance.

The woman peered over when she noticed his look of sheer terror at Carol’s approach.

“Hey, how do you know Ol’ Will here? Do you dance at one of the other clubs?”

The woman had a surprisingly kind smile. A large gap was prominent in her front teeth, but somehow added to her appeal. Her bleached hair was damaged from home dye jobs, but the color wasn’t unpleasant. She was pretty, but without the symmetry of a model.

“Dance?” Carol asked.

Billy kept slicing his hand across his throat, begging the conversation to stop.

“Oh,” the woman said with a little laugh. “With a body like that, I assumed you worked at Lickity-Split or Night-Blooming Jasmine.”

“Knight Rider, that is enough,” Billy said, static fizzling along his cuffs.

“I’m currently at Booty Trap, but I’m working my way up,” she continued. “My goal is to work at one of the private clubs downtown. I’m sick of being holed up in an alley. Will is one of my best tippers.”

Then it clicked. “ _Exotic_ dancing?” Carol glared at Billy and all of the color drained from his face. “Huh, I wouldn’t have pegged you for going to those places _at your age_.”

“They don’t have a liquor license anymore. It’s 18 and up,” Billy said, suddenly huffy.

Knight Rider looked between them, confused.

“I’m sure you’re great and all,” Carol said, gripping the back of Billy’s jacket. “But I don’t think he’ll be visiting your establishment henceforth.” Then she took in the dancer’s crestfallen state. “But who knows, I might stop in for a lap dance.”

“What?! How is that fair?” Billy choked out as Carol tugged him away.

“No biggie. Tends to happen when the regulars get girlfriends.”

“We’re not...” he began to protest, but Rider had already turned the corner. “You can unleash me now,” he said, snapping away from Carol.

They were nearing the warehouse and Carol was ready to release the tension building in her system. Once she entered the building, she crossed her arms and waited for Billy.

“I can’t believe you do things like that.” Her foot angrily tapped the concrete flooring.

“You’re this mad about strippers?” He strode forward and stepped on her shoe, bringing it to a stop. “Heads up, you’re not my mom.”

“Of course, I’m not your mom. And this isn’t about strippers. Ok maybe it is, because it’s clear you’ve been a regular a while. Which means you started going before your birthday last month.” She glanced up at him, and immediately looked away. “You need to stop with all of this.” She waved her hands in front of his face. “You can’t be...” Angrily she sucked on her teeth. “Lying to people.” She swung her foot away from under his, but he didn’t lose balance. “It’s fine when it comes to protecting your identity. But you can’t be using it...to seduce older women.”

“When have I...”

Her hand covered his mouth before he could continue.

“You acted differently when you didn’t know I was watching. I get it. She’s pretty and you’ve seen her naked. But what happens when you meet someone you really want to date? If you do it dressed like this, you aren’t going to get very far.”

The color returned to his cheeks.

“What are your plans when you go back to her place? You can’t even take a piss in this suit. I can tell you now; she’s not going to be happy when a lightning bolt summons a teenager she’s never met.” She pulled her hand away. “You never think ahead.”

“What if she does want me,” he whispered. “What if she likes me enough that it doesn’t matter what I look like, Carol? Books, movies, TV, all that bullshit tells us it’s what’s inside that counts. Are you telling me that’s not true? That I couldn’t walk out there and find one of my fans who’d be willing to risk it? Who might actually love the real me more?”

She spoke softly this time. “You’re going to get hurt that way.”

“I’m going to get hurt no matter what I do.”

She loved training with him because he rarely took things seriously. Heart to heart conversations had never been her thing. She’d never been a team player. Billy was having some sort of tantrum and she didn’t know how to solve it.

Well, actually she did know how. If he were anyone else, the solution would be simple. She wouldn’t even need words. The energy surging through her body felt urgent. If she even twitched a pinky, it’d all be over. She’d lose control of her limbs. They would compel her to do something she shouldn’t. And she knew she’d regret it. If it were ever going to happen, it couldn’t be some conciliatory gesture to make him briefly feel better. He’d ultimately feel worse when he realized she didn’t mean it. Or didn’t _want_ to mean it. He didn’t deserve those kinds of mixed messages.

“Distance strikes,” she forced out of her mouth. “You rely on hand to hand combat, but you suck on aiming your lightning.” To prove her point, she shot a thin beam of light at an exit sign on the far wall. “With a huge blast, sure you can hit the target. But I want more than accuracy. I want precision.” She carefully grabbed his hand and aimed his finger at the sign. “When apprehending someone, brute force isn’t always the right approach.” She caught his gaze. “Know your opponent.”

* * *

The day’s training had come to an end. Carol was fairly certain that she’d dragged on through spring solely because she enjoyed his company. There wasn’t anything new to teach him, and his daily drills with Pedro kept them both in shape. Today would be the last day in more ways than one.

She wiped sweat from her brow and then left the warehouse to stand in the gated parking lot. A kicked stone signaled that Billy had followed her.

“That it for today? You usually work me ‘til I’m blistered or there’s an emergency,” he said. His long shadow crept up and overtook hers. “Not that I’m complaining.”

She looked up at him. She’d grown used to his tacky suit. For some reason, it complimented his boyish smile. Fragments of his youth translated to his superhero body. She wondered how the average person couldn’t tell his age right away. No one retained that shining optimism and love for life. It died off with the disillusion of adulthood.

“You ever sign off on your enrollment papers?”

He nodded. “I’m staying local. I’m not like Mary, I didn’t exactly qualify for full rides. Poor Rosa kept her hopes up waiting for more acceptance letters.” He shrugged and tipped his head. “Freddy almost refused to leave when he found out. We had to hide all the phones because he wanted to bitch out our academic counselor. Thankfully it was the weekend and he had time to cool off.”

“That’s gotta be hard,” Carol said, continuing their small talk. She didn’t really care where Freddy was heading. Nor was it her business what Billy planned on doing in the future. “You two are... close.”

Billy quirked an eyebrow and shook his head. “We’re not _that_ close. How long have you thought that?” he asked with a laugh.

“Since neither of you followed through on ‘operation: hottest prom date,” she answered. “Those posed photos of you two were adorable.”

Lining the staircase at home, along with all the other family portraits, was an image of Billy and Freddy in tuxes. They stood side by side, arms reaching round front to the other’s waist. They’d worn equally dorky staged smiles. The photo had been a joke, but Rosa had hung it with pride. She liked to needle the boys about it, claiming that they’d both won. No one was cuter than the two of them.

Carol had caught Billy sneaking glances at her when she’d first noticed the prized photo. The next week it had gone missing. Rosa had printed another and up it went, back on the wall. Neither Carol nor Billy had mentioned it until this moment.

“I’m not exactly his type. He likes ‘em buff and fearless. Superman, Aquaman, Batman.”

She laughed. “That makes you exactly his type.”

“This,” he said, waving his hand at his costume, “is not who I really am.”

An electric charge built in the air, raising the hair on the back of her neck. The clouds that had lazily scudded by began collecting in a dark mass overhead. Billy whispered ‘shazam’ and a bolt of lightning parted the sky. Small droplets of rain fell and blackened the pavement near their feet.

“I’m sorry if you thought,” he said, his voice no longer resonant, “that I was in a relationship. I’m devastatingly single.”

Water freckled the fabric of his sweatshirt. It must have been landing on her too, but she couldn’t feel it. She was trying to ignore the hopeful expression he was giving. There were so many things he wasn’t saying, words that filled the silence but couldn’t be spoken.

“I’m sure there’s somebody out there for you,” she said, taking a step back. “You just have to keep looking.”

His lips quirked into a smile, dimpling at the corner. The drizzle turned into a downpour, soaking them in an instant. “None of this was in the forecast. We better head inside before it turns into hail.”

She glanced at the warehouse, but didn’t want to spend her last hours hunkered in a dilapidated building. Her eyes scanned the local businesses. Billy’s fingers slid against hers when he gripped her hand. She let him lead her away.

Carol wasn’t sure why he’d insisted on watching a movie, but she hadn’t denied him. They’d run several blocks to the theater.

“You get the popcorn, I’ll pick up the tickets. I get a student discount,” he’d said, eagerly bounding to the back of the line.

It was only five in the afternoon. The only people there were school-aged teens on dates. All adults were either still at work or mid-commute home. Sweatshirt, dirty beanie, ill-fitting jeans. He blended perfectly in the crowd, almost invisible to her.

“Cute. Taking your brother on a date,” the cashier at the concession stand said. She counted through the cash and typed on the screen.

Carol hoped that the magicked cash Strange had given her would work. She’d never actually spent any before. Funny that she’d use them on her last day. She’d so seamlessly ingratiated herself into Billy’s life that the few times she hadn’t stowed an energy bar in her pocket, she’d eaten with his family. The cashier took no issue with the bills and handed back several quarters.

“He’s a good kid.” Carol couldn’t help but smile when Billy waved at her, tickets between his fingers. She was going to miss him. “Hey!” she called to him. “You can’t expect me to carry all of this.” She nodded toward the Icee and sour gummies she’d ordered specifically for him.

A super hero biography. That wasn’t up Billy’s alley at all, Freddy sure, but not him. The movie was a fictionalized account of Wonder Woman’s exploits. Why the hell had he chosen that? When they’d looked at the marquee, she was positive he’d pick the animated film about zombie aliens. Not because he was young, but because she remembered Darla and him discussing the show it was based on. He’d been looking forward to it. Maybe he was waiting to take his sister to that one.

The movie started at the beginning, before Diana had come into the collective conscience. The minutes rolled by as the heroine wandered around her homeland. Carol felt something hit her shoulder. She turned her focus from the screen. Billy was yawning and his head lobbed to the side, occasionally landing on her. She pinched his cheek.

“This movie was your idea,” she whispered, even though the theater was near empty.

He looked up at her, eyes lidded with drowsiness. “Just wait for Steve Trevor.” He yawned a second time. “I think you’ll like him.”

She rose an eyebrow, curious what appeal this ‘Steve Trevor’ could have. But, she was always bad with this universe’s history. She should be paying more attention. “If you say so.” Nudging him away, she lifted the armrest separating them. He gave her a nervous glance before burrowing himself against her side.

The movie played, planes crashing, swords clashing. She tried, really she did, to keep track of what was on the screen. However, most of her attention was on how silently Billy slept. With no barrier between them, he’d ultimately laid his head in her lap. Absentmindedly, she used one hand to stroke his hair. He’d snatched her other hand and held it beneath his cheek. Even when the movie concluded, she felt awful about waking him. She’d worn him out during training. Their last training. She’d needed to transfer every lesson she somehow hadn’t. They’d wasted so much time. She would never feel his weight like this again. He was such a comfortable presence in her arms.

The lights came on and the cleaning crew skulked in with their brooms. The brightness caused him to finally stir. There was a second that could only be construed as panic. Every muscle in his body tensed, and he released her hand, from where he’d been cuddling it against his face.

“Ready to head home?” She crushed him, leaning forward to fetch his hat from the floor.

He wriggled free, stood, and stuck his hands in his front pocket. “Yep.”

The walk to the subway station had been mostly quiet. The ride was even more wordless. The chatter of the passengers thankfully filled the silence. Carol knew that she was minutes away from never seeing him again. She’d had all day to tell him. Instead, she’d frivolously humored his whims. They’d made it all the way to his neighborhood, the streetlights humming over the sidewalks.

“We need to talk,” she said, abruptly breaking the peace between them.

He peered down at her. He wasn’t the man who towered over her in costume, but he wasn’t the boy she’d initially met. Didn’t take much to be taller than her 5’7”. They’d been eye to eye once, and suddenly they weren’t, and she’d missed it. At first, she’d trained with him in his mortal form. He needed body awareness before he could fully maneuver himself as Shazam. Afterward, all of his training was done as a grown-ass man. She studied his body and form to correct his fighting style. Teenage Billy, well, he didn’t need her talents anymore. He just, sort of, existed. To her, he was more Shazam than Billy.

She could be sitting right next to him at dinner, and his size was of as little interest to her as Freddy or Victor. He was who he was, and what he looked like didn’t matter.

Crickets began chirping in the grass. He was still gazing at her. His eyes were that beautiful hazel; they shifted closer to green in the darkness of early evening. The angles of his face were sharpening, hardening into the shape they’d ultimately take. She was familiar with his face in the future. Before, the only similarities she’d caught beyond his eyes were the dimples of his smile. Now she could see it, fully. His broadening shoulders, his darkening hair no longer sunkissed.

She breathed in the air around her. There was the lawn, several houses down, freshly mowed. There were the mucky puddles from the rain. There was cologne. It wasn’t sharp like the inexpensive antibacterial soap his family used. He didn’t reek of the AXE can shared between Freddy and him when they’d competed for prom dates. The cologne he wore was clean, not overly woodsy like a home improvement store flooded with aftershave – a signature smell of Strange. Nor was it overwhelmingly spicy like Wong’s. Billy smelled clean, almost aquatic. There was even the faintest hint of ozone, left over from his lightning strikes.

They’d stopped walking. He’d moved in front of her. When he lifted his hand to stroke her cheek, she could smell him even more deeply as the fragrance pulsed from his wrist. It clouded all of her rational thoughts. The closer his face drew, the more she could see the changes in it. He was nearly an adult, already one by the laws standards. Whenever he gave a lopsided smirk, she always wanted to slot her finger in the crease forming on the edge of his mouth.

He wasn’t smiling at her though. His expression was one of solid intention. “Can I…?” he whispered with a sincerity she rarely heard. He was always so playful. His thumb traced her earlobe.

It had been so long since she’d been asked, if ever. There was an unearthly feeling that he might be unsure of how she felt. She nodded. He slowly tilted his head. Tentatively, his lips brushed against hers. They were soft, exfoliated by the sugary coating on the gummies. When she didn’t freak out, he pushed further. His kiss was firmer, more demanding. He made an involuntary noise of pleasure. Startled by his own excitement, he pulled back.

“Was that what you wanted to talk about?” he asked slyly.

“Not exactly. But now that it’s out there.” She watched his skin flush with embarrassment. “Just how long have you wanted to do that?”

He ducked in for another kiss before answering. “As long as you have. But like hell was I going to let you kiss me in costume. Not after you spouted that crap about ‘lying to the ladies.’” He chuckled and brought his hands down to his sides. “And today, you finally noticed.”

She cocked an eyebrow and waited for him to continue.

“Not that it’s lying. I’m always me. No matter what I look like. Usually it’s wise mentors that need to teach you lessons like that. For as old as you are, I expected you to realize it immediately.”

Carol’s gaze fell to the pavement. “I wished I’d realized sooner.” She rocked back on her heels. “Today’s the last day.”

“What do you mean last day?”

“The last day. Total. Billy. Remember why I come?”

“You’re looking for something? It’s been forever. I thought that wasn’t a thing anymore. You never found it?”

“Originally it was a stupid little bet, because I… needed a vacation. Trying to be a hero within the restraints of the government can burn you out. You’re lucky, kid. Don’t get involved in politics and…”

“Don’t reveal my identity. I know,” he finished for her.

“But I completely lost sight of the goal.” When she looked up at him, he smiled sheepishly. “But this morning, Strange reminded me that the timer ends tonight. By the time I get home, bet’s over. I lose. Strange gets one of my cats. And I don’t come back. He’s not going to flippantly portal me over here to see you.”

He slid his arms around her back, hugging her. It was odd to feel so safe and loved by someone so much younger than her.

“He’s been sending you this long; I doubt he’d stop if you had a reason.”

“You don’t know him. He’ll do anything to prove he’s right. This was just a mind game for him. There probably wasn’t even actually something for me to find.” She felt him kiss her forehead.

“What if you win? You don’t know what he wrote.”

She squeezed him back, fisting his hoodie. “If I don’t see you again, I need you to know something.”

“You’ll see me again.”

“We literally live on different planes of existence. We were never supposed to meet. This was a miracle in and of itself.” She raised her face to look at him. “This is the most fun I’ve had in decades. You bring joy and goodness into a world that looks pretty damn bleak to an outsider. Don’t lose your spark.”

His chest rumbled against hers when he laughed. “Not what I thought you’d say. Usually confessions like that end in,” he paused, preparing to whisper what came next. “I love you.”

With something like that, there was only one way to respond. She leapt up, locking her legs around his waist. She wove her fingers into his hair, knocking off the stupid beanie she hated. He took her ass in his hands, keeping her lifted. They kissed with more urgency than she’d ever kissed a partner. Granted, she’d never had to leave a partner permanently on the same day they became a couple. Were they a couple? One-night-stands definitely didn’t count in her book. But she felt the need to count this. Their _relationship_. Whatever she had with him definitely qualified.

When their lips finally broke apart, breathing heavily, she almost wanted to laugh. She’d been more intimate with virtual strangers, but kissing was as far as she’d ever get with him. Time was ticking, his house was full, and he shared a room. It had been love at first sight, but they’d overlooked it.

Slowly, she slipped off him. “Remember what I taught you. Stay safe,” she said, beginning a phone call from within her pocket. “I’m gonna miss you.”

Instantly, a glowing portal opened up to Strange’s office. Carol stepped backward through it, cutting off Billy’s pleas.

* * *

While she’d portaled directly to Strange’s side, she’d chosen not to speak to him. Instead she’d fled New York, opting to spend a month with Monica ‘Lieutenant Trouble’ Rambeau. Unlike Billy, she didn’t have the privilege of anonymity. At least with her niece, she didn’t feel the pressure to feign selflessness twenty-four/seven.

However, moping did her no good, and Talos would always be a nag. In his interim position as Fury, he kept fouling things up. Every other day, the phone would ring begging her for advice to solve one global crisis or another. Video consultations only worked to some degree, and eventually she returned to her apartment.

With her return to New York, she knew she’d have to resuming working with Strange. So she bit the bullet and flew to Bleecker Street.

Carol stomped into Strange’s office. The apothecary jar now held a place of honor on his book shelf. He’d lit up the cabinetry with LEDs. The lights made the jar with apparent trash glow dramatically. She reached for it. The glass felt warm to the touch.

“I guess you’re getting one of Goose’s kittens,” she said, placing the jar on his desk.

“I could have always guessed wrong.”

“Doesn’t matter either way.” She lifted the lid, the magical seal now broken. “I didn’t find it. A whole goddamn year and I couldn’t find whatever it was you sent me for.”

Strange snickered and reached in for the paper. “Oh, you found it alright. You just didn’t bring it home.”

Carol glared. “You saying I’m too stupid to know what I had?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. And once you read this. Ooh, it’s really going to get under your skin.” He tossed the paper at her and immediately began summoning a portal with his sling ring. Philadelphia came in to view; a young man was sitting on his porch steps glowering. “Read it.”

She rubbed at the wrinkles, delicately straightening the page. The ink was as crisp and black as the day he’d written it. 

_A year didn’t clue you in?_

The line was written in small script, subtext to Strange’s actual guess.

The person on the other side of the portal looked up, finally noticing the red glowing ring in his yard. He stood up and raced across the dead grass.

Carol re-read the single word that took up most of the page. She glanced at the word over and over.

_FUN_.

Strange had wanted her to have fun the entire time. She’d had such a stick up her ass, he’d hurtled her into a different dimension just to get her out of his hair.

“You’re shitting me right? With this fun bullshit?”

“Not my fault you thought it was a literal object instead of a concept.”

“That’s cheating.”

“It’s not.”

“You knew about Goose’s pregnancy. You knew. But you wrote _fun_ on this. Why?”

“So that we could avoid this confrontation.” He sipped at his tea.

“Explain.”

“Think. Use that brain of yours.”

Carol glared at him, but didn’t respond.

“I gave you a _year_ , Carol.”

She continued glaring.

“What took a year?”

Nothing. Nothing was coming to her.

“Fun isn’t a thing. But it also isn’t a concept. Fun is…”

“Now I’m really lost. How are you a doctor? Your bedside manner is terrible.”

He scoffed. “Why did you have ‘fun’ there?”

“Because I was with Billy,” she whispered, recognition dawning.

“And? I sound like a broken record. It didn’t even need to be a year.”

A teardrop fell unexpectedly and smeared the ink. The lines of Sonnet 8 thickened with the moisture.

“You knew?” she whispered, unable to take a deeper breath.

Strange didn’t have a chance to answer because Billy had crossed the threshold and thrown his arms around Carol. One arm slipped around her waist, the other slid up her cheek.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” he practically growled. Again, he cut off any interruptions. His lips were pressed against hers blocking any sort of response.

Even with Strange watching, Carol didn’t care. She looped her arms behind his neck and stood on the balls of her feet. The kiss seemed to last longer than the moments actually passing. Finally he pulled back, smiling and perfectly pleased with himself.

“I knew you liked me too,” he said, rubbing his nose against hers.

“Let’s call it a draw,” Strange finally interjected before making a swift exit.

* * *

Time had passed, Goose’s pregnancy had culminated in more kittens than anyone but Rocket had anticipated, and Billy had returned home. Aside from everyday hero business, life was quiet. It was on an evening much like the one when they’d repaired library books, that Carol felt willing to confront Strange. Her days with Billy had been blissful, and she hadn’t wanted to jinx them solely because the sorcerer was petty.

“You cheated,” Carol said, glaring at Strange. “The bet. You knew, how, when, everything. Even the Flerken kittens. But you told me you couldn’t see my future past that conversation.”

Strange sighed, like he always did, exhausted by the human race. “You forgot a very important detail. I can see Wong’s future clearly. Which I informed you of. While I am a fuzzy blob in it, given my time-meddling, most people aren’t. If I look at when everyone else comes in and out of his life, I get ninety-five percent accuracy instead of seventy. It’s why I keep him around.” He stroked the tabby kitten on his lap. “In almost all versions, you marry Batson. And those futures that didn’t end in you taking the bet… well, you mope around wondering what it was you were missing until you ultimately ask me to send you over anyway.”

Carol’s breath hitched. “Marry?”

“Obviously.” His eyebrow twitched. “Was I not supposed to tell you that? I thought it was a given. It’s not like I told you how many kids you’re having.”

She smiled this time. “You’re such a sweetie,” she said, ruffling his perfectly groomed hair.

“I want to gather as many talented individuals as I can. Match making has nothing to do with it. And if you breed, well, imagine the possibilities.”


	5. Supernatural: Dean/Cain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place S10E14.

The first time Dean had met Cain, to say he’d been underwhelmed would’ve been inadequate.A quiet beekeeper was hardly the ‘father of murder.’

This was an opinion he’d kept, even after absorbing the mark.Cain was human.The raw energy and power that Abbadon exuded as a Knight of Hell... it just wasn’t in his makeup.

All of that crumbled away as Dean wielded the first blade.They were standing in the barn, and he saw him.Really and truly saw him.

Evolution, genetics, global migration.Science indicated that early-man should have a certain look about him.However, Castiel and Lucifer leant credence to early biblical tales.Man was created in God’s image.Woman from man.The person standing before him was their child.He was an immediate descendent of Adam.Unlike angels, who took vessels, Cain was entirely himself.He was as close a reflection to the Lord as Dean would ever see.He wasn’t the blinding radiance of celestial creatures; he was the perfection of a self portrait.All flaws of the artist had been removed, replaced by idealized features.

Cain was terrifying.Cain was striking.

Dean understood that the mark held most of his desire.Just like it called to dark magic, it called to its true master.Blood boiled in his veins, glowing the length of his arm.

Dean had only wanted for three things in his life.Food, family, and sex.Cain had become all of these wants.He was the hunger that killing couldn’t fulfill, could barely even keep at bay.His existence personified choosing one’s family above all else.

The third want, he was that too.The blade knew the quickest way into its master’s grip was to be handed over willingly.So it made Dean ache in a new way.He craved for the blue eyes that he glared at to gaze back.He longed to feel beard catching on his own stubble.He needed to slide his fingers through hair longer than Sammy’s, but courser and thicker than any woman’s.He yearned to re-experience that primal exchange of life force, clasping hands while Cain surged a part of his being straight into him.

Dean would always claim that he’d dropped the weapon on accident.That it had been knocked out of his hand.

But there would be days when he’d wonder if he’d done it on purpose.If some reckless part of him had needed to see Cain hold it.If he would feel as infinitesimally small as he had when Cas had first unfurled his wings.

Cain did not disappoint.

**Author's Note:**

> The main reason I uploaded these was to unburden myself. They kept weighing me down, whispering, "you really should finish me instead of starting up something new. Look at me, withering away."  
> Unsaddling them leaves them out of sight out of mind. I can focus on other things without feeling guilty that I left these guys to rot.


End file.
